


Going Off Script and Straight into Your Hand

by StVincent



Series: Ginormous Nerds AU [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Graduate School, Handwriting, Nerdiness, Pre-Relationship, fountain pens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StVincent/pseuds/StVincent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a Schnee showed up in her faunus law and policy class, Blake had no idea what to expect, but she certainly didn't expect this. </p>
<p>Sometimes it's the little things that draw you in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Off Script and Straight into Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> If you departed halfway through _Going Off Script_ in order to read _Sins of Omission_ , click here to pick up where you left off.
> 
>  
> 
> This story is a lighthearted standalone set in a grad school evening class. It used to be part of a longer fic, but I split that up when I realized that the subsections were diverging pretty drastically in tone. [_Sins of Omission_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6614011) happened, chronologically, smack dab in the middle of this fic. They’re not dependent on each other, but I’ve marked the transition point within this fic with a note and a link to the other fic if you wanted to follow the original timeline. You’re welcome to read _Script_ in its entirety first—I did separate the fics for a reason—and if you’re just here for fluff, feel free to skip _Omission_ entirely.
> 
> * * *
> 
> My notes on this Tribal AU start with “learn about the parallels between faunus discrimination and how the US has treated its Native American populations... also mining discharge!” But I was firmly told that was an inadequate summary and not much of a selling point on its own. So I went back to world-building, and somewhere in the morass of racism, discrimination, exploitation, and environmental destruction, I hit this pocket of fluff.
> 
> * * *
> 
> 4/21/16: Added (1) links that’ll take you between footnotes within the body of the text and the end of the fic, (2) a note in the middle of this story where a second fic technically happens, and (3) a brief omake at the end. Minor changes made to accommodate that second fic, but nothing of substance.

Blake arrived at class ten minutes early, as per usual, to read in the empty room. By the evening, most students had cleared off campus so classrooms were generally quiet. To her surprise and mild disappointment, however, the professor was already there, along with a white-haired girl she’d seen once or twice in passing. When neither of them asked Blake to please wait outside, she skirted around the nearest wall and headed to the back to give them space to finish their conversation, and to make sure she could read with minimal disruption.

Barely a few pages later, out of the corner of her eye and over the edge of her novel, Blake could see the conversation ending and the pair walking towards her. Suppressing a sigh, Blake slid a bookmark in place and looked up in greeting. _At least it’s been years since anyone’s called me a teacher’s_ pet _to my face._

“Ms. Schnee,” the professor gestured at the white-haired girl, “will be sitting in on this class starting today.” He then gestured at Blake. “Ms. Belladonna is an exemplary scholar and can help you cover the material from the first week of class. If either of you need me, feel free to shoot me an email or stop by during office hours.” When the students nodded their understanding with no further questions, he returned to the front of the room.

_A Schnee in a history of faunus tribal law and policy class?_ She fought to keep her expression neutral and her bow from twitching. “I’m Blake.” She pulled out her notebook and set it on the table between them. “You’ve still got a few minutes before class begins if you wanted to start reading now, but I’ll need my notebook back once class starts. You’re welcome to borrow it again after class.”

Ms. Schnee smiled faintly and nodded. “Weiss,” she said before picking up the notebook. “Thank you.” She hesitated before gesturing at the seat next to Blake. “Is this space taken?” At the slight head shake—Blake had swiftly retreated back to her novel—Weiss sat down to review the notes.

As the stragglers finally shuffled in and the professor shuffled his notes purposefully at the lectern, Blake stowed her novel and looked over at Weiss. “Um...” She didn’t want to be pushy, but she had expected her notebook back by now—class was clearly starting—and she wasn’t exactly feeling charitable towards the Schnees to begin with. Blake’s irritation grew when Weiss made no response and continued to monopolize her notes. Blake tried again in a firmer tone. “Hey, class is starting.” No response. _What an entitled b—_

Weiss placed a finger on the page and quickly turned to Blake. “I’m really sorry, could I have just _one_ more minute, please?”

Blake blinked at the tone. She generally trusted her ability to read people, and Weiss seemed to be genuinely sorry, and anxious, but not really bitchy. Well, it always took a little time before class really got going so holding off on notes for another minute or two wasn’t a problem. “Sure, I can do without my notebook for a few more minutes.”

Before Blake had even finished her sentence, Weiss had muttered something that sounded like thanks and was back to staring intently at the notes. But this time she was also reaching down to her attaché case—sleek, snow white leather, of course—to retrieve her own notebook.

Blake had taken mild offense at being dismissed so curtly, but smirked a little at Weiss’ attempts to reach her own notebook while still reading Blake’s notes. Weiss’ impressive heels were just visible past her attaché case, and while Blake was sure they helped compensate for her diminutive stature when standing, they certainly did nothing to help her reach her notebook when sitting. The slightly undignified struggle mollified Blake on a delightfully petty level, and she turned to face the professor with an almost-smile. Without a notebook to keep her focus, though, she kept an eye on her wristwatch as the professor covered some boring administrative sundries. As the second hand was about to complete a full sweep, a scraping sound drew her attention to the right.

“Sorry, and thanks again,” Weiss whispered as she returned Blake’s notebook.

* * *

Sometime after the midway point of class, the discussion dropped into a lull and the professor glanced at the clock. “Alright, let’s do a ten minute break. We’ll pick back up at 8:00 for our final hour.” He was the first one out the door, no doubt making a beeline to the faculty lounge for a cup of coffee. 

There were audible groans and joints popping as the students stretched. Blake’s keen hearing picked out at least one sob. She flipped to last week’s notes and began to slide her notebook towards Weiss. “Do you nee—” She stopped dead when she noticed that the girl was still writing furiously.

Weiss’ notebook was rotated 45 degrees clockwise and she kept her left hand below the lines, jotting at an impressive speed. Between the rotation and the hand position, Blake had a largely unobstructed view of Weiss’ notes. Her penmanship was _breathtaking_. The fluid cursive lines broadened and darkened into a shimmering midnight-blue on the downstrokes, thinned and lightened to a sky-blue line a hair away from nothingness on the upstrokes, each letter drawn with astonishing consistency. [1] The uniform script was saved from mechanical soullessness with occasional playful flourishes[2] that swept across the paper, showing off the brilliant and multifarious shades of the ink. In the right light, the dark blue even carried bronze tones.[3]

A sudden tiny flick of Weiss’ wrist snapped Blake out of her trance and she realized she’d been holding her breath. She was so busy catching up on her oxygen levels that she barely noticed another flick. _Is that some sort of motor tic?_ Blake felt a little bad for staring. _Wait. She_ just _wrote out a line in red but was, and_ is _, writing in blue._ Blake scanned up the page and noticed a few words and lines in red and green embedded amongst the blue waves. _Huh?_

* * *

By 8:45pm, Blake was dying in her seat, having skipped the chance to grab a granola bar out of her locker during the break in favor of ogling Weiss’ ceaseless—and mesmerizing—notetaking. The class was slowing down, too, so concentrating on taking her own notes did nothing to fend off the insistent lethargy and gnawing hunger. Keeping half an ear tuned to class, Blake turned to a blank page and began writing out some lines from her favorite poem. She was usually proud of her handwriting, delighting in how the black ribbon of ink flowed from her pen nib, but now she was feeling very self-conscious and inferior. Her simple italic script[4] was positively gauche next to Weiss’ calligraphy. Blake wrote out the same lines again, adding a little more variation and embellishment. By the third iteration of the lines, class was finally over.

Blake gathered her belongings before looking over at Weiss who had—for the first time in nearly three hours—finally stopped writing. “Do you want to borrow my notes tonight?” Blake gestured with her notebook.

“No, thank you.” Weiss picked up her attaché case and headed towards the door. “I’ll see you next class,” she said with a small smile.

* * *
    
    
    Chronologically, [_Sins of Omission_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6614011) happens here. It’s not necessary for understanding the rest of this fic, but if you would like to put your feels through the wringer, you can go ahead and read that before continuing. I'll be sure to provide a link to come right back here when you're done. _Just don’t blame me if you get emotional whiplash._
    
    If, however, you would prefer to continue uninterrupted on this fluff train, please pretend that (1) Weiss didn’t head out and (2) her last line didn’t happen, and just keep reading.

* * *

“You’re sure you don’t need my notes from the first day you’d missed?” Blake asked again, just to confirm.

“No need.” A faint grin accompanied the declaration. “I had copied them down by the end of the class,” Weiss explained.

“What. How.” Blake couldn’t even manage the question marks.

“I read them before class and then used the break to write them out in my own notebook.”

“What.” Normally Blake was far more articulate, but her brain was mush. And this was ridiculous. “Okay, so you memorized all of my notes in, what, five minutes—”

“Plus one. Six. I had to ask for an extension, remember?” Weiss frowned. “I really am sorry. I had intended on returning it sooner, but I was almost done so I asked for another minute instead.” She paused. “And I didn’t exactly memorize them _verbatim_.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” Blake waved a dismissive hand. “ _Six_ minutes to memorize my notes, and then you managed to reproduce them during a ten minute break?”

“Well, yes.” She hesitated. “Actually, I wanted to ask if you could look over my copy and review the annotations I’d added.”

Blake narrowed her eyes as she recalled the memory. “Annotations? Was that the stuff in green and red ink?”

Weiss confirmed it, “yes, it was,” but couldn’t suppress a smirk, “so you were watching me write?” Her tone suggested that she knew the answer.

Blake flagrantly ignored the question. “You reproduced my notes _and_ added annotations in ten minutes?”

“Yes?”

“In that gorgeous handwriting.”

“G-gorgeous?” Weiss’ response carried the faintest hint of a stammer.

“Yes, _gorgeous_.” Blake sank her face into her hands as she continued to gush at the memory. “Oh my _Oum, yes_. I could have watched you write for _hours_.” She paused, face already in palm. _Well, that didn’t sound creepy at all..._ Suddenly Blake was glad her furious blushing was hidden. She kept her head down as she retrieved her own notebook, carefully trying to hide her face.

* * *

Blake looked at both of their notebooks side-by-side. “Your copy of my notes _is_ pretty much verbatim and your annotations are spot on.” She peered closely at a section with multiple ink colors. “Just how did you manage the color changes anyway?”

Weiss pulled out a silver pen and unscrewed the cap. “It’s a custom multi-action fountain pen with dust-infused ink.”

Blake could only goggle.

“It’s equipped with a modified flex nib and the feed is designed to clear itself of ink when I trigger a color change.” She rotated the cylinder built into the section as she listed the chambers. “There’s blue, red, green, and yellow cartridges loaded currently. It gets pretty wasteful changing colors frequently, though, and I have to clean out the ejected ink afterwards.”

Blake noticed the implications. “How often do you _normally_ switch ink colors?”

Having been caught out, Weiss answered truthfully, “rarely. I usually stick to the blue ink.”

She raised a dark brow. “Oh? So all of these color changes...” Blake gestured at the annotations and highlighting.

A faint pink dusted her cheeks. “Okay, I was showing off just a little...” Weiss’ voice tapered off by the end of her admission, but Blake’s keen hearing caught the rest: “...especially when you were looking.”

“Showing off just a _little_? Your penmanship puts mine to utter shame!”

“It’s just that your notes were in a lovely script and it’s so rare that anyone writes in longhand anymore, much less in italic cursive. I wasn’t trying to upstage you; I just wanted to show that I share your appreciation for handwriting!” Weiss was genuinely flustered by the end of her outburst and her cheeks were a little pinker.

Blake held her hands out in a placating manner. “I believe you.” The ghost of a smile at her lips curled into a full-blown smirk as she folded her hands on the table and leaned in to whisper, “I think it’s really cute that you were showing off for me.”

Her blue eyes widened in surprise and the faint pink deepened into a full-blown blush.

It only added fuel to the fire. “That blush is really cute, too.” _Oh wow, she_ can _get redder._ Seeing the increasing fluster, Blake hoped that Weiss would seize any opportunity to change the subject. “May I see your pen?” 

She clearly wasn’t expecting the question but quickly accepted the reprieve. “Okay.” She slid the pen case over. “I’m sure it goes without saying, but please be careful.”

Blake gently extracted the pen. She admired the delicate engraved patterns that covered the barrel and the intricate snowflake cut into the top of the cap. The clip was oddly angular, almost fin-like, but it held a sharp beauty nonetheless. The nib was also covered in engraved patterns, far finer than the ones on the barrel, and the tip came to a wicked needle point. She must have lost track of time staring at the pen.

“Blake?” Weiss paused to make sure Blake was paying attention. “Can I have Myrtenaster back?”

Amber eyes narrowed as Blake processed the unfamiliar word and the context clues. “You named your pen.”

To her credit, Weiss kept a straight face despite the blush. “What? I said, ‘can I have my pen back?’”

Blake chuckled at the dissemblance; she knew what she’d heard. Taking pity on Weiss, however, she returned the pen and held out her own pen case. With an almost-sheepish grin she announced, “meet Gambol Shroud. She’s not nearly as fancy, but she’s mine.”

Weiss smiled in mutual understanding and carefully pulled out the black-and-grey pen. It was plain and battered, but well-constructed and well-loved. The design was fiercely utilitarian and the only decorations were a double band of white across the barrel and a hand graven flower opposite the clip. The nib was unadorned, but the tines were straight and the broad italic tip was sharp. As she recapped and returned the pen, Weiss asked, “do you only write in chancery?”

Blake shrugged. “Pretty much. I wasn’t formally taught, so I mostly learned from whatever library books I could find. The calligraphy sections weren’t well stocked, so I just learned chancery. I don’t care for uncial and I find that blackletter is a pain to read.” She snickered at the thought. “I think my professors would kill me if I turned in an essay in blackletter.”

“But you like my copperplate script?”

Blake raised a sardonic brow. “How _ever_ did you guess?” she drawled, but the caustic tone was neutralized by a slight smile.

Weiss ignored the jibe. “Did you know that you can write in copperplate with an italic nib?”

Amber eyes lit up. “Can you teach me?”

Blue eyes twinkled in return. “It would be my pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> The OTP here is clearly Blake x Weiss’ Handwriting.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Footnotes:**  
> [1]: Copperplate includes roundhand and engrosser’s/engraver’s script. [Roundhand exemplar](http://imgur.com/Lxadtzr); [engrosser’s script exemplar](http://imgur.com/Xe3HotL).  
> [2]: [Multi-line flourish](http://imgur.com/SDIIv7d).  
> [3]: [Dark blue ink with bronze/orange sheen, engrosser’s script](http://imgur.com/0mEJfnD).  
> [4]: [Chancery italic exemplar 1](http://imgur.com/IybuQwx); [chancery italic exemplar 2](http://imgur.com/1HLegYc).
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Omake:**  
>  Weiss hangs out with Yang after finding out that Blake is a faunus. [Shenanigans](http://imgur.com/h1z5M5l) ensue. Blake insists she’s not a _mews_ ed—with a straight face, of course—but she carefully frames the calligraphy when she gets home.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You can go read [_Sins of Omission_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6614011). Chronologically, it happened in the middle of this fic, but I had split it off because it was far too dark in tone.


End file.
